Well it's been manic since the fire. And mania is my least favourite state. Fuelled by shock, benzo withdrawal and lack of sleep, I have found myself engaged in compulsions that must be broken.
Like weighing every single item from my Grandmother's house clearance that has been demanded by She Who Hath No Name and Lives Abroad. In a bid to get on top of the situation I went a bit OTT on the postage research and could now, feasibly, work for the Post Office offering a consultancy service on volumetric weight calculations.
It had to stop. So it has stopped. Thank God. Only to be replaced by manic research into moving my Gran's savings. Though in the current climate I feel I am not alone in tearing my hair out and wondering what to do for the best.
And, as if sensing with that finely-tuned sixth sense of hers that I was all at sea, cusp sent me a lovely present in the post that has soothed, relaxed and reassured. Thank you cusp, you are a love. And I smell gorgeous for once.
So at last, I have calmed down. A bit. And I am seriously ready for some quiet time. The decorator who will be repainting the bathroom asked me yesterday why I don't just move into my Gran's house, as I was moaning we hadn't let it yet. Ha, ha aha ha ha (and thrice ha, ha aha ha ha). Like I really want to be that enmeshed in family? And like I can afford the rent I'm charging? Anyway, we got a tenant today.
Here's a picture of a strawberry tartlet to celebrate.